


I won’t be denied by you (the animal inside of you)

by Finduilas



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-20
Updated: 2012-10-20
Packaged: 2017-11-16 16:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/541733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finduilas/pseuds/Finduilas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Stiles looks at Derek again, but he finds himself unable to return the gaze, to give him a comforting smile. So Stiles follows his father’s instructions and heads to his room, shoulders slumped.</em> - or, the one where Derek has to decide what he’s willing to fight for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I won’t be denied by you (the animal inside of you)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Animal by Neon trees. Beta’d by iam_space! ♥
> 
> [Artwork based on this fic](http://finduilasclln.tumblr.com/post/73211290433/my-sterek-campaign-commission-from-the-amazing), by Road_Tama!

“We’re gonna die,” Stiles groans as he shuffles a little closer to Derek, against the bushes they’re currently hiding behind.   
  
“We’re not gonna die,” Derek says, and there’s a distinct growl to his voice as he looks back, trying to take in their surroundings.   
  
“We are  _so_  going to die,” Stiles whines, rubbing his palms over his jeans to wipe away some stray blood. He doesn’t think any of it is his, but he can’t be one hundred percent sure.   
  
Derek glares at him, like he’s in any way surprised Stiles would ever disagree with him. Yeah, right.   
  
“We are surrounded by supernatural creatures that are trying to eat our skin,” Stiles grits through his teeth, “Tell me how exactly we’re  _not_  going to die?”   
  
“The pack is on its way,” Derek says, and Stiles wonders if maybe Derek can  _feel_  them approach or something, because there’s nothing telling him the rest of them even know where Stiles and Derek are right now.   
  
“Great, just more of us that are gonna get killed…” Stiles sighs, slumping down on the muddy ground.   
  
“Shut up,” Derek says, like it’s his default setting.   
  
“This isn’t fair, you know,” Stiles continues anyway, his heart beating away in his chest, “I had shit I was supposed to do before I died.”   
  
“Yeah? Like what?” Derek snorts, like he can’t believe Stiles actually had important plans for the future. Plans that didn’t involve him dying in the middle of the forest, next to a werewolf whose last words would probably be ‘Shut up, Stiles.’   
  
“I was gonna do stuff, important stuff,” Stiles says defensively, pulling Derek towards him by the arm, to make him pay attention.   
  
Derek quirks his eyebrow as he keeps Stiles’ gaze, like he’s trying to challenge him. And fuck if Stiles is going to pass up on that opportunity. It might be the last one he gets, after all.   
  
So he grabs Derek by the collar of his shirt and says, “Like this,” before roughly pressing his lips against Derek’s. He pulls Derek down against him, and even though Stiles knows very well that Derek could pull free in the blink of an eye, he doesn’t, and he just kisses Stiles back.   
  
And then the rest of the pack  _does_  show up, and it turns out Derek was right after all. They weren’t gonna die.   
  
***  
  
“So, would you look at that…” Stiles says nervously as they reach his jeep. “Guess we made it out after all.”   
  
Derek can hear Stiles’ heart beating furiously in his chest, and he wonders if he should mention the fact that Stiles seems more scared right now than when he was convinced he was going to die.   
  
“Told you so,” Derek says instead, trying his best to keep a scowl on his face.   
  
“Unless of course  _you_ ’re planning on killing me now, for… you know…” Stiles shrugs uneasily. “Which would be bad, just so you know. ‘cause if you think about it, that was a compliment I was giving you, really. And that really shouldn’t put you in a ‘maim and kill’ kind of mood. And to be fair, I  _was_  pretty convinced that we were going to die horrible deaths, so I didn’t really plan ahead enough to deal with yet another homicidal werewolf trying to punish me fo…”   
  
“Stiles!” Derek barks out, and Stiles snaps his mouth shut, staring at him wide-eyed.   
  
His heart is still racing, and the beat of it seems almost entrancing to Derek. It feels intimate somehow, and Derek is only half-surprised at how much that doesn’t bother him.   
  
“Shut up,” Derek says again, but it’s said with half a smile and absolutely no vigor.   
  
“Oh-kay,” Stiles mumbles, and Derek nods before leaning in and pressing his lips against Stiles’.   
  
Stiles tenses against him for a split second, before he openly relaxes and kisses Derek back.   
  
Derek thinks it’s possible he’s not quite sure what he’s getting himself into, exactly, but the feeling of Stiles’ tongue darting out and finding its way between Derek’s lips seems to be worth it.   
  
***  
  
“This would be so creepy if I hadn’t been secretly looking forward to it,” Stiles shakes his head as Derek climbs in through the window of his bedroom.   
  
Stiles snaps his computer shut and bounces to his feet, hands reaching out for Derek but stopping at the last second. Derek’s lips just curl up at the edge as he inches closer to Stiles and reels him in by his shirt.   
  
“Can’t stay long,” Derek says, and he actually seems apologetic about it.   
  
“What, you got other guys to see?” Stiles asks, and he knows there’s a tiny insecure edge that seeps through.   
  
Derek just rolls his eyes and closes his mouth over Stiles’, and Stiles is content with that answer, fingertips resting against Derek’s chest as he lets Derek’s tongue explore his mouth.   
  
They’ve done this a few times now, and still Stiles can’t get over the thrill of it all, the sparks in his stomach. He feels like he could kiss Derek forever, but then Derek pulls away, eyes flickering towards the door.   
  
“Your Dad’s coming up the stairs,” Derek whispers.   
  
“No,” Stiles whines, like it can somehow make them prolong the moment.   
  
Derek shrugs, apologetic, then leans down for one quick kiss before sprinting out the window… maybe half a second before Stiles’ bedroom door swings open and his father walks in.   
  
“Hey, I was thinking pizza for dinner,” Stiles’ Dad says, and Stiles’ eyes glance over at the window and back to his Dad as he says, “Uhm, yeah, su… wait, no, Dad. Too much grease!”   
  
“Stiles,” his Dad sighs, “I’ve had a long day and I’m hankering for some pepperoni, so can we not have this discussion again, for the love of God?”  
  
“Yeah, sure…” Stiles relents, his attention still half drawn by his bedroom window.   
  
“’kay,” Dad nods, before disappearing out in the hall again.   
  
When the door clicks shut, Stiles rushes over to the window, only to find Derek gone.   
  
“Not cool, Derek,” Stiles mutters out in the cold air, he’s pretty confident Derek can hear him somewhere anyway. He leans his forehead against the cold glass of the window. “You’re such a tease.”   
  
***  
  
“It’s driving me insane,” Derek grumbles, squeezing his eyes shut against the pounding in his head as he leans against the counter.   
  
“My devilish good looks?” Stiles quips, slipping his arms around Derek’s waist, still somewhat tentatively like he’s not quite sure he actually can.   
  
“The construction work down the street,” Derek grits through his teeth, but he leans into Stiles’ touch anyway.   
  
“That?” Stiles asks, like he forgot all about it, like the sound of the machines aren’t making Derek’s teeth hurt. “You can barely hear it.”   
  
“ _You_  can barely hear it,” Derek says and leans his forehead against Stiles’.   
  
“Guess I have to distract you from it then,” Stiles smiles before he brushes his lips against Derek’s.   
  
Derek closes his eyes and slides his hands up Stiles’ neck, fingers framing his face as he returns the kiss. It’s languid and sweet and actually kind of perfect. Until Stiles’ father walks into the kitchen and Stiles makes an undignified squeaking noise as he pulls away. Both Derek and the Sheriff seem frozen in place.   
  
“Dad…” Stiles mutters, eyes flicking from Derek to his father.   
  
The Sheriff exhales sharply, keeping a stern gaze on Derek.   
  
“You didn’t hear him come in?” Stiles whispers accusingly, though probably loud enough for the entire street to hear.   
  
“Construction work,” Derek grits through his teeth, keeping his eyes on Stiles’ father.   
  
“Stiles, upstairs,” the Sheriff says, and there’s no mistaking in his tone that he means business.   
  
“Dad, I…” Stiles starts, but his father cuts him off.   
  
“I want to talk to Derek,” the Sheriff says, “I’ll deal with you later.”   
  
Stiles looks at Derek again, but he finds himself unable to return the gaze, to give him a comforting smile. So Stiles follows his father’s instructions and heads to his room, shoulders slumped.   
  
The Sheriff waits until he hears Stiles’ bedroom door close to address Derek.   
  
“Derek Hale,” he says, sighing.   
  
“Sheriff,” Derek clenches his jaw, every fiber in his body telling him to get the hell out of there.   
  
“So what exactly is going on here?” the Sherriff asks, posture stiff.   
  
And Derek knows he needs to explain, needs to somehow find the Sheriff’s approval, needs to advocate for him and Stiles, but instead he hears himself say, “It won’t happen again.”   
  
And before he knows it, he’s walking outside, slamming the front door to the Stilinski house behind him. The sound of metal on metal is clanging in his head, making it pound, and he hurries into his car and probably breaks a few traffic rules getting as far away from there as possible.   
  
***  
  
“Seriously?” Stiles says as he storms into the train depot, not bothering with the niceties. “That is all you could come up with to tell my Dad?”   
  
He finds Derek behind one of the cars, his shoulders stiff as he slowly turns towards Stiles.   
  
“Stiles…” he says, jaw clenched.   
  
“ _It won’t happen again_?” Stiles spreads his arms, his voice rising.   
  
And then Derek has the nerve to sigh, and Stiles feels like he’s about to explode.   
  
“Since when isn’t it supposed to happen again?” Stiles shouts, “’cause I was very much counting on it happening about a million times over, but I never knew you’d be such a chicken!”   
  
“Stiles,” Derek grumbles, and if Stiles didn’t know him any better, maybe he’d be intimidated, but as it is he’s just furious, so he ignores the sounds Derek makes in the back of his throat.   
  
“Is that seriously the kind of guy you are?” Stiles bites out, “You just run when someone even comes close to questioning what it is we’re doing?”   
  
“It was your  _father_ , Stiles,” Derek says, as if that somehow explains anything.   
  
“So?” Stile challenges.   
  
“So it gets complicated,” Derek snaps.   
  
“Oh, right,” Stiles huffs, “And what? It’s not worth the trouble?  _I_ ’m not worth the trouble?”   
  
Stiles sees something flash across Derek’s eyes, can see Derek’s lips pressed tightly together, like he has a million things he wants to say, but he isn’t saying anything.   
  
“I don’t  _do_  parents,” is all that comes out, and it feels like a punch to the gut to Stiles.   
  
“Oh wow…” Stiles says, feeling gob smacked. He blinks his eyes a few times, swallows hard as he tries to process things.   
  
“I guess I’m really not worth it then…” Stiles says, and it’s barely a whisper, but he knows Derek’s heard it anyway. Stiles’ shoulders sag as he turns around, turns away from Derek and ready to leave.   
  
But then Derek’s grabbing his wrist, stopping him from pulling away.   
  
“Stiles…” he says, and there’s something pleading in his tone, but Stiles isn’t quite sure what he’s pleading for.   
  
“That’s not what I meant,” Derek says, and Stiles wonders how his jaw isn’t just permanently clenched.   
  
“Really?” Stiles asks, trying to pull his wrist away, but Derek won’t budge. “’cause it seemed pretty clear to me.”   
  
“What do you think is going to happen, Stiles?” Derek asks, annoyed. “Your Dad and I have a little chat and he’ll miraculously be okay with this?”   
  
“I’m seventeen, Derek,” Stiles counters, “No matter how you turn it, my Dad is going to be in this, one way or another.”   
  
“Exactly,” Derek says, with a nod of his head. “You’re seventeen. Barely. And your Dad’s the Sheriff. Do you see where I’m going here?”   
  
“We’re not even doing anything!” Stiles calls out, and Derek finally lets go of Stiles’ wrist with a sigh.   
  
“And how long is that going to last?” Derek asks, like it’s a challenge, and Stiles has to swallow away before he almost chokes on his own saliva, because yeah, he’s been thinking about it, of course he has. But somehow it didn’t actually seem quite real yet.   
  
“I… how… we…” Stiles snaps his jaw shut, takes a second to collect his thoughts and blurts, “You want to have sex with me?”   
  
And the second the words leave his mouth he knows it’s about the stupidest thing he could’ve said. He can see Derek’s nostrils flare, but he’s remarkably calm when he says, “I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for. But me? Just me? Yeah, Stiles. I do.”   
  
Stiles blinks, trying to wrap his head around the fact that Derek just admitted to wanting to sleep with him, even though they seem to be breaking up, and…   
  
“Wait, wait just a second!” Stiles calls out, “What exactly is happening here? ‘cause one second I’m not worth dealing with my Dad for, and the next you wanna sleep with me?”   
  
“This was a bad idea,” Derek says, scowl firmly attached to his face.   
  
“This was a bad idea from the beginning!” Stiles calls out. “But I thought we were just going to conveniently ignore that because it was also pretty damn amazing!”  
  
“That was before your Dad found out, Stiles,” Derek says.   
  
“So?”  
  
“So I don’t wanna end up back in jail!” Derek barks out.   
  
“He’s not going to arrest you!” Stiles says, and even to his own ears he sounds like a petulant child.   
  
“I’m not taking the risk,” Derek snaps, and just like that he’s made up his mind and Stiles can tell he better not defy him. His eyes aren’t red, and his mouth is shut so Stiles can’t really tell if there are fangs or not, but there’s a wolf-like quality covering Derek’s face and it’s nothing like Stiles has ever seen before.   
  
“And that’s that then?” Stiles asks, deflating, feeling the fight go out of him.   
  
“That’s that,” Derek says, a curt nod of his head before he turns his back on Stiles and disappears somewhere behind a rusty train-car.   
  
***  
  
“Jesus, what’s gotten into him today?” Derek can hear Scott mumble to Isaac when he turns his back on them for a second.   
  
He knows he’s been extra hard on the betas during training, and he knows he really shouldn’t be so damn obvious, but there’s anger and adrenaline pumping through his veins and beta-training seems to be the perfect outlet.   
  
“Do you wanna learn or do you want to get killed?” Derek growls at them, fangs bared and chest heaving.   
  
“Will you just chill?” Erica says, with a roll of her eyes, “It’s just training, it’s not…”   
  
And Derek doesn’t give her a chance to finish that sentence as he’s got her pinned against a tree, one clawed hand wrapped around her neck, the other snapping a bone in her forearm. It’s cruel and painful and he knows he shouldn’t do it but he does it anyway. Erica screams underneath him, shrill and bone-piercing, but Derek doesn’t let go until he breaks her wrist too. He gets up as Erica crawls into a ball, cradling her arm.   
  
“Derek!” Isaac shouts as he moves to get to Erica, but Derek makes him freeze on the spot with one growl, and Isaac stops and cringes.   
  
“Fight back!” Derek shouts at Erica, whose broken bones are mending, but is still lying on the ground, shivering.   
  
“Enough!” Scott yells, placing himself between Derek and Erica, but then Erica’s springing back to life, pushes Scott out of the way as she flings herself at Derek, all fangs and claws. Derek side-steps her easily, smashes her on the ground again as she only manages to rip her claw in his neck.   
  
Derek doesn’t even reach up and cover the wound, confident enough it’ll heal right away.   
  
“Whatever it is that’s got you this worked up,” Scott growls, “Stop taking it out on us!”   
  
“You wanna be next?” Derek bristles, baring his teeth at Scott.   
  
“If this is the only way you can deal when you’re upset, then  _no_ , I don’t wanna be next,” Scott says defiantly.   
  
Derek’s nostrils flare as his claws slash the side of Scott’s stomach, and he can’t even remember lashing out. Then Boyd is jumping on his back, arms squeezed around Derek’s neck, and Isaac is punching him in the stomach, and Derek only barely manages to throw them both off before Erica sees her chance to grab his hand and wrench back his fingers. The pain is sharp as the bones break, but he figures he has it coming.   
  
“That enough fighting back for you?” Erica spits out as she lets his hand fall to the ground, and they all take a step back.   
  
Derek bounces back to his feet, flexing his fingers as the bones set again, and he lets out a deep growl.   
  
“It’s a start,” Derek grumbles.   
  
***  
  
Stiles kicks off his shoes the second he enters the house, leaving them haphazardly by the door.   
  
“How was school?” his Dad asks from the living room.   
  
Stiles just shrugs as he retreats into the kitchen.   
  
“You know…” his father says as he follows Stiles, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re going to have to talk to me eventually.”   
  
“I talk to you,” Stiles says, busying himself by looking in the fridge.   
  
“About Derek, I mean,” Dad says, arms crossed over his chest and a look on his face that says he doesn’t really want to be there.   
  
Stiles looks at the floor, closes the fridge without taking anything out.   
  
“There’s nothing to say,” Stiles says.   
  
“I beg to differ,” Dad counters, “Since I found the two of you making out in this very kitchen.”   
  
“Yeah, well, that’s not gonna happen anymore,” Stiles says, rummaging through the cupboard in search of nothing in particular except maybe escape. “So you don’t have to worry.”   
  
“I do worry, Stiles,” Dad says with a sigh, “I want to know what’s going on in your life, who you’re seeing, and you’re not telling me anything.”   
  
“Look I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, about… you know, me liking  _guys_ ,” Stiles says, slouching back against the counter.   
  
“It’s not like I didn’t at least wonder, you know,” Dad says, and Stiles looks up, surprised, and his father smiles.   
  
“I was waiting for you to tell me,” Dad shrugs.   
  
“Oh…” Stiles says, and he wonders why he never even realized his Dad would be so okay with this.   
  
“Derek though…” Dad says, pushing his shoulder off the doorframe and taking a few steps towards the kitchen table.   
  
He pulls away a chair for Stiles before sitting down himself.   
  
“It’s…” Stiles starts, shakes his head. “You don’t have to worry about it anymore.”   
  
“How did that even happen?” Dad asks, and his voice sounds soft and consoling, and almost like… his mother.   
  
“I don’t know…” Stiles shrugs again as he finally sits down next to his father. “But it’s over now.”   
  
“Because I caught you?” Dad asks carefully.   
  
“He doesn’t want to go to jail,” Stiles snorts bitterly, even though he knows it’s unfair. Derek has a valid point, Derek’s the one taking all the risk, after all.   
  
“Have you two…?” Dad asks, and Stiles can hear the slight edge to his voice now.   
  
“No!” Stiles says quickly, head snapping up. “I swear we haven’t! Dad, you can’t…”   
  
“It’s okay, Stiles,” Dad says, a reassuring hand on his arm to subside the panic rising up. “Son, I’m talking to you as your father here. Not as the Sheriff, you don’t have to…”   
  
“But you  _are_  the Sheriff,” Stiles counters.   
  
“Do you love him?” Dad asks, and the question throws Stiles for a second.   
  
“Dad, I… I don’t know. I mean…” Stiles sighs, because how do you really know that kind of stuff anyway?   
  
“Is he important to you? Is he  _good_  to you?” Dad asks, his fingers tracing the edge of the table.   
  
“He… He could be,” Stiles says with a weak smile. “He’s not like everyone thinks he is.”   
  
“I want to believe that,” Dad says.   
  
“But?” Stiles asks, because surely his father isn’t just giving in and giving him his blessing.   
  
“But I think I need to see it with my own eyes first,” he answers.   
  
Stiles nods. “He didn’t exactly make a brilliant first impression, did he?” Stiles says sadly.   
  
***  
  
Of course, there’s always a next hunter-related disaster, and whenever Scott is in trouble, Stiles has to be there too.   
  
They manage to shake off the hunters, and if Derek wasn’t too busy hating the entire world, he’d be proud of how the pack actually worked together – using brains and muscles – to get out of danger.   
  
“Scott told me you were out of control during training the other day,” Stiles says when he joins Derek, who has separated a bit from the rest of them, as they walk back through the forest.   
  
Derek throws him a scowl, but it doesn’t seem to have a whole lot of effect on Stiles.   
  
“Not exactly a new look on you, but still…” Stiles continues, briskly.   
  
“Scott should keep his mouth shut,” Derek mumbles, picking up the pace a bit in hopes of shaking off Stiles.   
  
Stiles just skips a bit faster, until he’s right back next to Derek again.   
  
“Or what?” he asks, “You’ll slash open his stomach again?”   
  
Derek grinds his teeth together.   
  
“Or you’ll break Erica’s arm in a few places?” Stiles continues.   
  
“They heal,” Derek says, his gaze fixed in front of them.   
  
“Yeah, I know,” Stiles says, “It’s still not a terribly nice thing to do.”   
  
“It’s the only way they’ll learn,” Derek counters, even though he’s not quite sure why he’s justifying himself.   
  
“No wonder my Dad thinks you make a terrible first impression,” Stiles sighs, and Derek snaps his face towards Stiles at the mention of his father.   
  
He grunts incoherently as he focuses back on the forest in front of him and quickens his pace yet again. Stiles does a little jog, keeping up with him, then yanks him to a halt as he tugs on Derek’s arm.   
  
“Hey!” Stiles says, “You’re an ass, you know that? We could’ve just talked to my Dad. But instead you had to go and skip out like I’m worth nothing and now my Dad thinks you’re just a coward.”   
  
“Maybe I am,” Derek shrugs, ignoring the challenge that Stiles is setting up for him, ‘cause he knows it’s exactly what Stiles wants.   
  
“That’s a fucking lie, and you know it!” Stiles says, and Derek is sure they’re loud enough for the rest of the pack to hear, even though they’re all pretending to be wrapped up in their own conversations maybe half a mile away.   
  
“Maybe I don’t want this to be a fight too, Stiles,” Derek snaps, finally shrugging off Stiles’ hand on his arm. “Did you ever stop to think about that?”   
  
Stiles ducks his head, even though his jaw is still clenched.   
  
“Everything in my life is a battle,” Derek says, his voice a whispered hush, in hopes of keeping a little privacy. “And I didn’t want this to be too. I wanted it to be easy and comforting, because it  _should_  be. Because we deserve it, dammit.”   
  
“We do,” Stiles agrees, completely deflated.   
  
“But I guess it’s not that easy…” Derek says, and he picks up his step again.   
  
This time, Stiles stays a couple of feet behind him as they walk back in silence.   
  
***  
  
“I say we forego homework and just dive right into the videogames,” Scott says as he unbuckles his seatbelt before Stiles even comes to a complete stop.   
  
“We’ll most likely regret that in the morning, but I’m game,” Stiles says, because God knows he could use a little distraction from the drama that is Derek.   
  
“We’ll find an excuse,” Scott says, reaching behind the seat to grab his backpack.   
  
“Would ‘werewolf ate my homework’ go over well with the teacher, you think?” Stiles smiles as he bounces out of the car.   
  
“I know an Alpha that would kill us for the exposure,” Scott shakes his head, still laughing.   
  
“Anger management issues,” Stiles mumbles.   
  
“Speaking of…” Scott says as he comes to a halt on the front lawn of Stiles’ house, staring at the front door like it’s made of wolfsbane.   
  
“No way…” Stiles mutters as he comes to the realization, “He’s in there?”   
  
“With your Dad,” Scott says confused.   
  
“Please tell me you don’t smell any blood,” Stiles says, only half-joking, and he’s not sure who he’s most worried about.   
  
“I smell…” Scott says, sniffing the air a bit. Then his face lights up as he says, “Cookies!”   
  
“Oh God,” Stiles mumbles as he heads for the front door, wary of what he’ll find inside.   
  
He finds his Dad with Derek in the living room. Derek is sitting on the sofa, across from Stiles’ Dad in the recliner. He’s wearing an actual dress shirt above his jeans, and he’s sitting up straight, cradling a cup of coffee between his hands. There’s a plate of what looks like homemade cookies on the coffee table between them, and his Dad looks… relaxed.   
  
“This is freaking Twilight…” Stiles mutters as he takes in the scene before him.   
  
“That was mainly vampires, man,” Scott whispers over his shoulder, and Stiles shoots him an annoyed look, ‘cause  _really_?   
  
“Twilight  _Zone_ , dude,” Stiles whispers back, “You know what? Let’s not do this right now.”   
  
“Stiles!” Dad says as he brushes away some crumbs off his shirt.   
  
“Dad…” Stiles says warily, eyes flickering from his father to Derek.   
  
“Derek came to talk,” Dad says, “And he brought cookies.”   
  
“You bake?” Stiles asks astonished, but Derek just shrugs, and Stiles hopes to God that Derek didn’t steal them from some old lady’s windowsill.   
  
His father grabs another one of the cookies, and Stiles is too flabbergasted to even consider telling his Dad off for his cholesterol. Then Scott is grabbing one too, as Stiles’ Dad tries to swat away his hand.   
  
Stiles looks back at Derek, “What are you…?”   
  
Derek gets up from the couch and takes a few steps closer to Stiles, hands shoved in his pockets as he shrugs his shoulders.   
  
“I was wrong,” Derek says, and Stiles doesn’t need to look behind him to know that Scott is almost as surprised as Stiles is to hear those words come out of Derek’s mouth.   
  
“If anything was ever worth the fight,” Derek continues, “It’s you.”   
  
***  
  
The window is left unlocked, and Derek slips right in to find Stiles sitting behind his computer. He looks back over his shoulder with a smile when he hears Derek come in.   
  
“You know you get a whole lot of creepy stuff when you google ‘werewolf sex’?” Stiles says, like they’re right smack in the middle of a conversation and Derek didn’t just walk in.   
  
Derek raises an eyebrow and says, “I can honestly say I don’t.”   
  
“Oh, right,” Stiles says as he closes his laptop and twirls his desk chair towards Derek, “You still live somewhere in the Middle Ages. Please tell me I don’t have to explain to you what ‘google’ means?”   
  
“So funny,” Derek deadpans, sitting down on the edge of Stiles’ bed. “I don’t have to google it, Stiles. I know how it works.”   
  
“Right,” Stiles says, all energetic and bouncy as he pushes off his chair and plops down next to Derek, thigh against thigh. “Well I’m still a novice, so you know…”   
  
“I know,” Derek says, with what he hopes is a reassuring smile.   
  
“Eager to learn though,” Stiles says with a huge grin on his face as he turns towards Derek on the bed.   
  
Derek wraps his palm around the side of Stiles’ face, and it’s enough for Stiles to lean in and crawl into his lap as he starts kissing him.   
  
“Eager to teach,” Derek mutters against Stiles’ lips, his hands finding their way down to find a perfect fit around Stiles’ hips. “But I think we made a promise to your Dad not to rush things.”   
  
“Ugh,” Stiles says as he drops his head to Derek’s shoulder. “You know, bringing up my Dad during sexy times is a real buzz kill.”   
  
“I could always bring up Scott’s face when he realized what was going on between the two of us,” Derek grins, and Stiles unwraps himself from Derek’s frame to fall back on his bed.   
  
“Sexy times officially ruined,” Stiles complains, even though Derek can tell by the tent in Stiles’ pants that that’s not completely true.   
  
“I’m just saying…” Derek says as he stretches out next to Stiles on the bed, the back of his hand absentmindedly rubbing over Stiles’ chest. “There are different stages, and why don’t we just take our time exploring? Step by step?”  
  
Because it’s not like Derek isn’t dying to get Stiles underneath him, naked. But he’s messed up enough as it is before they reached this point, and he’s determined to do it right from now on.   
  
“Can stage one be dry-humping?” Stiles asks, and the smile on his face would be almost innocent if Derek couldn’t smell the waft of arousal radiating from Stiles’ body.   
  
Derek laughs as he rolls himself on top of Stiles, knee slipping in between Stiles’ thighs as his lips latch onto the skin of Stiles’ neck.   
  
“Score!” Stiles exclaims laughingly, wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck and reeling him in as close as he can.   
  
“Shut up,” Derek smiles, pressing his lips against Stiles’, and he realizes that some rewards are well worth the battle.


End file.
